A/N: Here we go. Shit is about to get real.
Standard Disclaimer: These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.
Chapter 9 – The Green Apple
Regina awakens to limbs that feel as if they are made of lead. Shuffling beneath the covers with all the dexterity of a slug, she groans a grumpy protest at the sound of birds merrily chirping on the sill of the bay window. The previous evening is a blur of hazy images and incomprehensible words after Iris delivered the nightly wine. Strangely enough, she had noticed that hers had an unusual effect upon her. Normally it takes half a bottle to produce the buzz a couple sips gave her last night. That would have been worrying except Red did not complain about hers, and her palate – while less refined through relative inexperience with fine vintages – is far more sensitive to the slightest variations in flavor. With no reason suspect foul play, Regina had dismissed her concerns as an annoying byproduct of paranoia.
Now she is regretting that, as those initial suspicions are proven alarmingly correct this morning. Even minutes after waking, she feels unnaturally groggy as if having indulged in excessive spirits the night before when she and Red only consumed one glass a piece. Not only that, but her head is pounding so voraciously that she can hardly string more than a few fragmented thoughts together before they tumble away into the misty ether of her addled brain. As if her abnormal reaction to the wine was not cause enough for concern, she realizes with the slothful return of her faculties that the sun is already high in the sky, which tells her she has slept in until nearly noon. These factors taken in combination give her the distinct impression that she has been drugged.
On any normal day, she would have been up at first light. Red is an early riser and is usually disgustingly happy of a morning, which means she is rarely able to suppress the need to share that cheer with Regina whether she is receptive or not. The subsequent wake up calls come in many forms, from gentle or playful touches and caresses, to ghosting kisses over her skin, to outright frontal assaults when feeling amorous. Even before Red, though, Regina was typically awake shortly after dawn. As a child, her mother strictly scheduled her morning regimen down to the minute, which ensured she turned out a creature of habit who rose with the sun. That internal clock came in very handy when she became Queen, as the concerns of ruling over a flourishing kingdom demand she get a head start on preparations for the long day ahead.
For a moment she wonders why Iris did not get her up earlier, and the thought of her handmaid neglecting her duties sends spikes of anger curling through her chest and stomach. But then she vaguely recalls having given Iris the morning off so that she and Red could sleep in a bit. The anger uncoils as quickly as it gripped her, and Regina breathes a slight sigh of relief that she will not have to acquaint Iris with her nasty side. Of course, that does not explain why she has hibernated until after noon. Even when she forces herself back to sleep when her internal alarm rouses her, she is usually only able to get an hour or two more before she's back up again. For the second time in as many minutes, she wonders at the cause, and though she wishes otherwise, her analysis leads her to same conclusion as before. She has been drugged.
But why? And by whom? To these questions, there are no answers. Or more accurately, there won't be any if she keeps laying here in bed staring at the ceiling.
Burning for answers, Regina attempts to compose herself with great difficulty. When she feels confident enough in her limbs to risk venturing out of bed, she slides out of the covers then off the side onto her feet only to immediately stumble and almost collapse face first to the floor. Woozy as she is, standing is a precarious process of stops and starts to unfold unsteady legs and push herself vertical. For a minute or two once she is upright she struggles to stay that way. Her balance returns to some semblance of normalcy at a lazy, aggravating pace, and once she is sure she will not be kissing the stone floor with her first step forward, she sets off carefully toward the washroom where she hopes a face full of water will wash away the stubborn cobwebs clogging up her brain. Her leaden feet drag all the way there.
Upon pushing the door open, however, all of the haziness evaporates in one horrific instant only to be replace by a terrible rush of awareness. She stops cold in her tracks as if a blast of arctic air has whistled through the doorway, a chill coils down her spine. As her heart lurches in her chest, a strangled gasp tears free from her throat. The scene before her is one that will forever be carved into her memory.
There, lying face down in the floor next to the tub, is Red. Still in her night gown, a green apple – one of her favorite treats – with a mouth shaped hunk torn out of it is clutched in her hand. Panic invades Regina's mind, overpowering senses already operating inefficiently. Feeling as if the walls are closing in on her, she screams at the top of her lungs for help and then rushes over to where Red lay upon legs that are wobbly all over again.
By the time she collapses onto her knees at her motionless wife's side, their handmaid has barreled through the door. A keen witted, straw-haired woman, Iris was handpicked by Regina after her previous handmaid, Marta, passed away unexpectedly. Red is especially fond of Iris, as they are very close in age and became fast friends after the appointment was made official. Upon seeing Red's state, Iris blanches white as a sheet and briefly sways in place before righting herself against the door frame.
"What the devil happened?" Iris asks in a frightened whisper.
"I don't know!" Regina snaps, trembling fingers feeling for Red's pulse and finding it thready but present. "Send for the physician." When Iris does not immediately jump to, Regina whirls on her, eyes blazing with scarcely contained desperation. "Now, Iris!"
Iris immediately jumps to attention and nods frantically. "Right away, Your Majesty." And then she scurries out of the room, skirts swirling in her haste.
With Iris gone to fetch help, Regina returns her attention to Red. Eyeing the offending apple, she pries it loose from Red's fingers, finding the action abnormally difficult due to the death grip Red has on the offending fruit. The thought strikes Regina the wrong way, and she feels again for Red's pulse – is relieved to find one, weak but still detectable.
Raising the apple up to eye level so she can study it, she notes that it is an alien breed that is much larger than any she knows to grow within five hundred miles. She holds it up to her nose to smell it, hoping and fearing simultaneously to detect a garden variety sleeping potion or perhaps a drug not unlike the one used to spike her drink. A thought strikes her then that Iris was the one to deliver the wine last night. Have she and Red been betrayed? If so, why? Then it hits her like a (). Is Iris in league with the witch who killed Robin? The very possibility steals Regina's breath away. The handmaid was thoroughly vetted by Regina's best investigator before her hiring, and she has been nothing but sweet and loyal since she has been on the job.
Not that appearances can be trusted. Once there was an innocent looking princess, only ten years old and oh-so-sweet, who proved that principle to deadly effect. Regina frowns at the cynical bitter tint of the thought, knowing from whom it originated.
Well, if Iris is in any way responsible, she will pay
Clearing away those suspicions for the moment, Regina returns her attention to the pernicious fruit in her hand. Unlike the unnatural affliction her twisting gut is screaming at her about, a mundane sleeping spell would easily be countered. Sadly her hopes are thwarted upon detecting no noticeable trace of magic upon the apple. Either it is untainted or whatever magic affecting it is cleverly designed to pass the inspection of a well-educated sorceress skilled at potion-making and a werewolf adept at detecting them.
"I'm afraid you won't find any evidence," an accented voice trills from behind Regina, one that she instantly recognizes. "I'm far too good for that. Even your long-legged mutt couldn't sniff out anything wrong with her morning kibble."
Startled, Regina's attention moves away from her unresponsive wife to the new and uninvited occupant of the room. She shoots to her feet, turning abruptly to face a curvaceous woman in a sparkling black dress and a hideously tall and pointed hat. A mass of curly red hair is gathered up underneath the garish hat, though some of spills out in wisps that resemble tendrils of fire licking at dark hearth. The witch's face is highly symmetrical, and Regina concedes she would be a beautiful woman if her skin was not as green as the emerald gem she wears about her neck.
A woman with red hair. Regina's eyes bulge with unexpected comprehension as her brain makes connections to a previously foggy memory of last night. Iris had been late in delivering the nightly wine to Regina and Red, and in her explanation mentioned that she had bumped into a new custodial worker and nearly lost the tray carrying their wine and glasses. The person Iris had collided with was a woman with red hair.
That is no coincidence. Iris just so happens to bump into this newcomer the very night my wine was drugged, knocking me out until the next afternoon? And when I finally awaken I find Red like this? No, no. This was all planned. Probably from long before that grand theatrical introduction. Killing Robin in the throne room and then directly threatening my life was merely a distraction, a ploy to make me assume she would go on the attack, burn more villages, perhaps even attempt to assassinate me or launch an invasion if she has drummed up any foreign support. All the while she was plotting to strike at that which I love most. This has been the web being woven all along, to ensnare Red and make me suffer through her, and I've fallen right into the trap like a damnable novice...
Instantly irate, at herself for doubting Iris and not predicting such a familiar tactic as much as at the intrusion and the barely veiled acknowledgment that this witch is responsible for Red's predicament, Regina acts without thought. Fireball at the ready and sneer firmly in place, she advances on the intruder.
"You...you despicable, craven fiend! I'm done with your games. Who the hell are you, exactly, and what have you done to my wife?!"
The witch laughs her to scorn. "Why, I'm your elder sister, Regina! What a pleasure to meet you in person!" She gives an exaggerated curtsy that betrays her disparate origins. This woman, powerful as she is, is no sister of mine. Not only is she no noblewoman but clearly she is a filthy peasant trying to make her name by targeting her betters. "My name is Zelena," she goes on, oblivious to Regina's derisive thoughts, "and to answer your final question: I have indeed done something to your adorable little pup. A curse of my own design that I'm rather proud of. Be thankful. Pretty thing that she is, I originally had something far more fun planned for her. She would have made a most excellent addition to my...collection."
"How dare you insinuate such a thing," Regina growls at the unsubtle subtext. That is twice now the witch has made such tawdry references to Red, though this latest is the far worse of them. The idea of anyone taking possession of Red's body through her heart is as disgusting as it is infuriating – not to mention the perpetrator being this green-skinned cretin. The fireball in Regina's palm blazes hot along with her rising anger. "If you so much as disturb even a single hair on her head, I'll..."
"You'll what?" her 'sister' interrupts, looking amused as she speaks animatedly. "Torture me? Kill me? Toss me into a river with a lead ball chained round my ankle? Roast me on a spit after lopping my head off? Oh, Sis, I do wish you'd try. Any of the above, really. I haven't had a good laugh in ages."
"Don't tempt me," Regina retorts. "If you truly know who I am, then you know what I am capable of."
"Oh, my," the green-skinned witch says with mocking fear. "The infamous Evil Queen. I had expected so much from you considering our mother's extensive investment and the many rumors I'd heard of your exploits. Pity that when I researched you, I was disappointed to discover how far you've fallen. Mother would be crushed, Regina! Your pretty pet has made you soft."
Regina feels sweat beading at her temple from the effort to keep her fireball alive in her palm considering her current precarious physical and emotional state. Unwilling to give an inch to this brazen interloper, she feeds on her rage to keep it going.
"She's not my pet," she sneers, knowing what she is about to say risks setting the witch off, but she is too far gone to care. "Not that you'd know anything about having a true relationship. If you really are who you say you are, then our mother abandoned you, tossed you away like garbage at birth, because she never once made mention of you. So tell me,sister, how can someone who spent her whole life unwanted understand what it's like to be loved?"
Zelena stiffens in response and her eyes harden, clearly far from amused by the slight. Regina smiles, glad to have provoked such a response when all she wants to do is, as Zelena had so aptly stated, roast the woman on a spit after lopping off her head. The fantasy of doing just that exhilarates Regina to the point of rapturous lust. It's been far too long since she unleashed the savage monster from the confines of her obsidian cage.
"I'd be a little more respectful if I were you," Zelena warns, lips curling in offense. "I am more powerful than you can possibly imagine. Don't trifle with me lest you be given a demonstration."
Regina scoffs in ridicule of a witch who thus far has been all talk and no action. "If that's true, why not just kill me and be done with it?"
"Because that would be letting you off too easy!" Zelena snarls, teetering grasp upon her temper portraying an image in which Regina finally recognizes some vague familial resemblance. Cora is becoming more and more visible by the second in Zelena, which convinces Regina more than anything else that the claim of them being sisters might actually true. "You don't deserve such a mercy," Zelena adds, and as she becomes increasingly unraveled, more and more strands of stark orange hair slip free of their nest beneath that hideous hat. "It should have been me raised by our mother instead you! I should have been the one groomed to become a Queen and then be tutored by the Dark One himself. You stole everything from me, Regina, so I am going to take from you what you love the most." Hateful blue eyes flit down toward Red's inert form. "I want you to watch her suffer and die from this curse, knowing there is nothing you can do to save her."
Forgetting the jealously laden bits of Zelena's rant, it suddenly dawns on Regina that Zelena has confirmed twice now that a sleeping curse is afflicting Red. Knowing she must act quickly, she casts a hasty shield around herself and her comatose wife, then kneels down beside Red once again as Zelena bangs her fist against the magical barrier railing an extremely colorful protest.
It is with reverent but expeditious care that Regina eases her wife onto her back. Needing to believe but not quite daring to hope, she takes a chance and leans down until her face is hovering over Red's. To focus, she concentrates on her love for Red, on how dismal her existence was before she came along and infused it with love and joy and peace and a sense of belonging unlike anything she had ever known. Red is not just Regina's wife, she is her very beating heart and her primary reason for living. Truth be told, Regina can no longer fathom a life without her beloved werewolf in it. Such at fate would be, for her, less preferable than death.
Before making contact with Red's lips, she murmurs a heartfelt, "I love you," and then seals their mouths together like she has countless times before. To her shock and profound wonder, a glorious burst of magic immediately bursts out from their bodies, flooding the room with a soft amber light that appears as if translucent liquid gold. She instantly recognizes the explosion of magical energy as the same force that Charming had used to wake Snow from Regina's curse. A force she once believed could never be produced from the depths of her coal black heart. And yet visible evidence to the contrary is right before her eyes, undeniable proof of the magical connection she and Red share.
At first, she is so stunned that Red really is her True Love that she can hardly move or breathe, her thoughts aswirl, disbelief mingling with astonishment. How can this be possible after I have committed so many heinous acts against innocents? Surely I should have long ago been purged of the ability to experience such a selfless devotion as True Love. And yet magic of such primordial power does not lie.
The revelation shocks her so acutely that she falls back to her haunches. Her hand clutches at her chest as her heart stutters almost painfully. How is it possible, she then thinks, for a person to have two True Loves in a lifetime? For as much as there is no doubt in her mind that Daniel was her True Love, the indisputable proof of Red being the same has just been splashed across the spacious bathroom, inundating it with the golden illumination of the most pure love a human being can experience. The implications are enormous, awesome, and absolutely terrifying.
Bewildered as she is, and more than a little euphoric, it takes her a moment to realize that Red is still not moving. Which should not be. True Love's kiss should have immediately awakened her from the sleeping curse. Frantic, Regina feels for Red's pulse, finding that it has somewhat improved, although she remains catatonic. On the verge of outright panic, Regina leans down to kiss her wife again, only this time nothing happens whatsoever.
A split second later, she hears Zelena begin to laugh, a terrible sound that produces unspeakable dread along the length of Regina's spine.
"Oh, Sis," Zelena drawls, clearly happy at the development. "I already knew the mutt was your True Love. I accounted for that in my plans, in fact."
Horrified, Regina stares up at her demented elder sibling. "What have you done?"
Zelena begins walking around the spherical shield, her finger tracing along it as she moves, sparks arcing all around the verdant digit as Regina's magic protests against the foreign contact.
"Simple," the witch says, smirking hatefully, "I infused the curse with a special ingredient found only in Oz, my home world. There is a grove built high in the mountains surrounding the Emerald City where a particular species of tree grows. The leaves of that tree are very special, you see, and are resistant to any and all forms of magic. I simply procured a sample, ground it up once I had completed the curse, and bonded them together chemically...with the help of a certain cooperative wizard, of course. I never was terribly fond of the apothecary arts. With that reagent added, no magic can break this curse. Not even the fabled True Love's kiss."
Stopping her movement, Zelena allows a malefic smile to smear across the width of her brightly painted lips. "I should also inform you that this is not an ordinary sleeping curse, but one designed to siphon its energy from the body of its victim. You see, Sis, as your beloved sleeps, the spell will be slowly sucking her life force dry as her soul suffers endless torment in the Burning Room. Once her body dies, her soul will be trapped there forever, in eternal agony, unable to move on to greener pastures, as it were. And the best part is, there is nothing you can do to stop it."
Regina feels something snap inside her as Zelena pontificates about her victory. Unleashing an unholy shout, she launches herself at her enemy, breaking through her own shield in order to wrap her hands around the green woman's neck. The attack catches Zelena off guard enough that she is unable to evade Regina's grasp. When they collide, both of them tumble to the ground in a heap. Fortunately Regina lands atop of her prey, so she immediately leverages her superior position to continue strangling her witch of a sister. In a panic, Zelena thrashes to free herself but to no avail; Regina's grip is ironclad.
"I'm going to break your scrawny green neck, you bitch!" Regina growls. Dreadfully intent on doing just that, she presses against Zelena's throat with all of her might, screaming into the effort. Her belly coils hotly from the sickening pleasure she receives watching her sister's face strain and turn tomato red then begins to tinge purple as her suddenly terrified blue eyes bulge nearly out of their sockets.
Just as it feels like the bones in Zelena's spine are about to give way, the witch snaps her fingers and magics herself away. Now standing in the bedroom a dozen feet away, Zelena pants wildly, glaring with inexpressible hatred at Regina as she tries to recover her breath.
Regina gives Zelena a baleful grin as she casually rises to her feet, awash with murderous jubilation. "You won't get away that easily." She extends her hand to pull Zelena back toward her only to be met with resistance when Zelena extends her own hand out to counter the unspoken spell. Their magics begin to battle for dominance, purple clashing with green, creating a ball of muddy brown between them that starts to pulsate and groan as they grit through their effort to destroy one another.
Without warning, Zelena cries out, pushing outward with both hands, intensifying the energy flowing through her thicker, more vibrantly gleaming beam of magic. Regina feels it pushing her backward and she grinds her teeth against the cresting tide. Summoning more of her reserves, she pushes back futilely, aware that Zelena's power when unchained is more than she can ever hope to equal. As her magic gives way under the unrelenting assault, the stark green magic opposing her, threatening to totally dominate her, creeps ever closer in proximity to her hands until she is on the verge of being utterly consumed.
But then something bizarre happens. A thought crosses her mind of Red laying in the floor nearby, helpless, cursed, dying, and she feels a molten surge of some unknown energy erupt from deep within the epicenter of her being. White hot anger flashes behind her eyes, righteous indignation suffusing every cell, every atom in her body. It cascades through her system from head to toe, an unearthly fire that burns through her veins and sings a chorus of untold power within her soul.
With an inhuman shout, she taps into the mysterious energy and pushes out with her magic again. She hardly even notices that her magic has changed in color from its dark purple to a lighter lavender color. After filing that surprising development into the back of her mind for further evaluation, she trains all of her focus on defeating her enemy. She watches with grim satisfaction as Zelena's face twists in rage, her magic receding until the two are again at a stalemate. Now, however, the entire room is quaking with their combined efforts. Vases crash to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces as the lighter furniture begins dancing a zigzag pattern across the room. Their warring magicks crackle and pop and explode with showers of color like fireworks from the staff of a petty wizard who plies his magic to entertain for gold.
Eyeing her sister with unfettered animus, Regina notices that Zelena seems genuinely taken aback her new display of magical prowess. The reaction reveals the true nature of Zelena's assessment of her, that she had genuinely believed herself to be a far superior sorceress and thus had approached this encounter as if triumph was a given. It is no wonder that she seems utterly perplexed at discovering she had underestimated her baby sister. And although Regina instinctively understands why this is happening, she is just as surprised at the development as Zelena.
Had her sister attacked while she was still a lonely, bitter woman full of rage and hatred, no doubt she would have been destroyed. She is a powerful magician but Zelena's magic is far more naturally robust than any she has encountered save that of Maleficent or the Dark One. It should have been a relatively trivial matter for Zelena to crush her like an inconsequential bug. What Zelena had not anticipated was the effect True Love can have on a practitioner of the Art. No longer was Regina drawing upon hatred alone to fuel her magic. Instead, she had stumbled into a previously untapped and inexhaustible source of energy in her boundless love for Red. Love was giving her the strength to equal her sister's raw magical superiority, leveling the playing field in a way that Zelena could not have possibly predicted even with the help of the most talented prognosticator.
In the back of her mind, Regina wishes that her mother could be present to see the proof of just how wrong she was. Love is not weakness. Quite the contrary. It is the greatest power in all of the cosmos.
"How...is...this...possible?!" Zelena growls as she exerts herself to the precipice of fatigue, sweat running down her temples in fat rivulets the wind down crimson-flushed cheeks.
Regina just grins, sweat rolling down her own face, and then gives her sister the simple truth. "Love." And with that, she pours every ounce of it into her channeling. In yet another miraculous development, her already altered magic is suddenly infused with a stark white band about the edges. It swirls and arcs as it slowly drifts inward to merge with the central beam, transforming into a brilliant shade of lilac. The new deluge of energies overwhelms Zelena, causing her to actually lose ground.
The witch screams out her frustration. "This isn't...over!" she grits out, and then just before fatally faltering, manages to blink out of existence. Only a puff of green mist is left behind in the wake of Zelena's hasty, and reckless, transportation spell.
Panting at the exertion required to defeat her foe, Regina stands and stares at her hands, awestruck at and hardly able to process what she's just accomplished. But then she remembers Red, remembers what Zelena said, that there is nothing she can do to save her beloved, and with one lurch of her heart, the incredible feat of magic is rendered entirely insignificant.
Yearning for Red with an intensity she cannot bear, she wants to run back into the bathroom and gather her wife up into her arms. Longing to hold Red tight, to will her out of the curse induced coma that has imprisoned her soul, she orders her legs to move only for the command to be ignored. In a rush of realization, she becomes aware of what she's done. Having exhausted her magic almost down to the last drop, her body is now paying the price of such a foolish but necessary gambit. Lacking the strength to even take a single step, overcome by emotion and sapped of her every last ounce of energy, Regina's eyes roll into the back of her head as she feels herself slip into inescapable clutches of unconsciousness. Just as everything begins to fade away, she vaguely hears the sound of Iris returning. Unable to speak, she sends up a silent prayer to whatever god may be listening that the physician or apothecary can help Red somehow.
Before she can even finish the thought, the blackness gathering at the fringes of her vision rolls across as if a curtain being down. Darkness descends, encompasses her, and she surrenders to its greedy claim.